Für Elise

It was a lovely evening when the phone rang on that fateful day.  

The first leaves of autumn had begun to fall, drifting down gently in the breeze that was neither too cold nor too breezy as breezes can be sometimes. I had just, with some difficulty, found the perfect place to enjoy the evening. There was an old settee that had been abandoned on the porch when I had moved in to this house. It creaked when you sat on it, had cracks in its cushions and looked terribly ancient, but once you were settled between two very big cushions, with a hot chocolate in one hand and a book in another, there wasn't a more comfortable place in the world. 

It was at this moment, as I was nibbling at the marshmallow that had bobbed to the edge of my cup of hot chocolate, that I heard the phone ring. It was a loud, brisk kind of ring, the kind you hear from very old-fashioned phones. But then everything in this house was old, or at least old-fashioned, including the phone, which still had to be dialled by putting your finger into a hole with the number you wanted and turning the whole dial. And tonight that little old phone rang with such urgency that I felt something must be quite wrong.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver, "How may I help-"

"Elise! Thank goodness I reached you!" The voice shouting from the other end was shrill, bordering on hysterical but distinctly Christopher's. "I need you to come over right now."

"Why? What happened?" I asked. 

"Can't explain. Just get over here."

"Chris, are you alright?" I asked with more urgency. 

The line went dead as the phone clicked. I stared at it for a while and then I was out the door and pulling out of the driveway in my car. It wasn't until I was down the street that I realized I had spilled my hot chocolate on the settee, and on my book. 

Within fifteen minutes the wheels of my car had screeched to a halt in front of Chris' house. I dashed in, my mind whirring with all the terrible things that could have happened to my friend.

The living room was empty and I ran to his laboratory. Yes, he had a laboratory. Chris liked inventing. He had liked inventing when we were seven and he liked it even more as an adult.

I found him hunched over his worktable, his clothes dishevelled and his thick black hair stuck out at angles as if he’d fallen asleep in there, which I didn’t find hard to believe.

He looked up and I had never seen Chris looking as delighted as he did then.

“I’ve done it, Elise.” He started excitedly, motioning me over to him. “I’ve finally made it work. It actually works!” A fire danced in his eyes and the smile on his face lit up the room.

He lifted up something from the table and I saw that it was a watch.

A simple, brown watch with a leather strap. There were three dials underneath the glass clock surface, two small buttons on each side, and instead of twelve numbers, the clock hands pointed at twenty-four Greek letters.

“You needed me to come here for a watch?” I asked incredulously. “I thought you were in trouble!”

“It’s not a watch,” he replied, almost dancing with excitement. “It’s a Timepiece.”

“That’s the same thing.” I snapped, unimpressed.

“No, no, no, you don’t understand.” He replied impatiently. “It doesn’t measure time, it moves through time.”

I didn’t know what to say to this so I kept quiet and folded my arms across my chest.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but trust me, I’ve tested it. It works!” He continued, looking at me earnestly. “I haven’t tried sending it to the past yet, that function still needs some calibrating, and each time it’s only been for a few minutes, but-”